Choices
by SalishSea
Summary: What if Vincent had not lost his memory after being held by Muirfield for 3 months, but, instead, chose to lie about it to Catherine in order to protect her? How would she respond if she found out. Would she choose to still love him? Or would his lie end them? One-shot. Strong sexual content.


**A/N: A note of caution. This story contains strong sexual content. Disclaimer: I own nothing, no profit or gain.**

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Vincent sat on the bed's edge, head in his hands. His gut was tight with guilt, his mind fogged by confusion. A dull pressure throbbed in his chest, sadness and despair clenched like a fist around his heart. Hope was slipping away and no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, no matter what sacrifices he made, everything seemed to conspire against him - against them.

The gentle rocking of the houseboat, imperceptible to others but easily felt by his enhanced senses, didn't provide its usual comfort and peace. As he focused on the swaying motion his hyper-sensitive hearing caught the gated door to the dock open and close, footsteps moving across the planks, getting closer. Catherine.

His heart started to race, shoulders tensing. Desire and longing filled his loins. But fear, almost panic, rushed through his veins. Fear for her. She shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be near him. It was too dangerous - dangerous for her. His beast tensed, strained, demanding attention. Vincent struggled to push him back.

He heard the soft click of the door handle downstairs and the swoosh as it opened and then closed.

"Vincent," Catherine called out. "Vincent, are you here?"

Hearing her voice, so familiar, so close, stirred his craving for her. When they were apart his need for her was barely survivable. When she was close her voice sang to his heart. The pain of his lie burned his soul.

He sat motionless, his mind a flurry of emotion. Maybe if he was silent she would think he was gone and just go away. Foolish thought. She was a cop - a detective, none the less. She'd certainly find him sitting on his bed. He surprised himself at his silent chuckle and the tiniest hint of a smile he felt curving his lips. Even in the depths of despair her very presence was enough to pull him back to from the edge, to save him from himself. God, he loved her.

"Vincent," she called out again, her voice subdued as she slowly padded up the carpeted stairs to the loft bedroom. Reaching the top she saw him sitting quietly on the bed. She stopped, exhaling a hard breath of relief. "Vincent, I ...," her words trailed off as her eyes opened wide.

She stepped quickly toward him, stopping in front of him, her face full of worry and concern.

He looked down at the floor. "You shouldn't be here Catherine," he said, his heart ached at his words, words he didn't want to say.

"Yes, Vincent, I should," she whispered. She waited. He said nothing.

Tentatively she sat down on the bed beside him. He bent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together, staring at the wall across the room. Her scent rushed over him, a hint of jasmine perfume, the sweet strawberry of her shampoo and the musk that was uniquely hers - that always piqued his desire for her. He felt his loins stir again and rushed to push down his need.

Her hand glided slowly, hesitantly, to his shoulder, landing gently, softer than a butterfly. Her touch jolted him, searing heat and energy coursing down his shoulder into his chest, need and want pooling in his stomach. He closed his eyes and couldn't help the soft sigh of despair that escaped his lips.

His heart opened - and broke. He slumped forward, bowing his head, his shoulders collapsing in on themselves, his body no longer able to muster the energy to fight - to put up the front, to try to protect her. If he couldn't keep her away, if he couldn't keep himself from needing her, she was going to die, of that he had no doubt. And it terrified him. Terrified him because he couldn't live with her and knew he couldn't live without her.

Panic and guilt rose to the surface again, as did his beast. He tensed and turned his head away from her, trying to hide the shame of his beast and the fear of his love for her. With every scrap of will he possessed he forced his beast down once again. But Catherine knew what had just happened. She saw and heard and felt his frantic struggle to control what was savage in him, what was ugly in him. And she hadn't run away, her hand still on his shoulder, her love for him on her lips.

"I love you," she whispered, "more than you know. Please let me help. I know you don't remember me, but I'm begging you to trust me."

She inched closer to him, the warmth of her thigh pressing against his, her hand still on his shoulder, her other hand dropping to cover his two clenched fists held in front of him. He ached to return her touch, to hold her, to lose himself in her deep green eyes, to take her body over the edge with his.

She leaned down and forward, trying to look up into his face which was turned away. "Look at me." Her command was gentle, but still a command.

He struggled to keep his head turned away, fearful if she saw his face she would know. Fearful his eyes would give him away and reveal his unforgivable lie - that he remembered, that he had never forgot.

He had convinced everyone - his handler, JT, Gabe, Tess, even Catherine - that his memory had been successfully wiped, when, in fact, he had never let them steal it from him. During the three months of captivity and reprogramming - in reality, brainwashing - his struggle to hold onto the only link to his humanity had succeeded. That link was Catherine - his memories and love of her. It was she that had sustained him. She that had given him strength and courage and hope.

But now he had to lie to her. It was his only option. And the pain he felt at deceiving her was like shards of broken glass raking across his insides leaving him raw and bloodied. To protect her he had to force her out of his life, to keep her away and safe. For her to live, he had to die inside. But he had gladly made that decision when his captors had released him, sending him on his beast extermination missions, thinking he was a clean slate, programmed to do their bidding. He would sacrifice anything - everything - for her, with no hesitation. He loved her - more than he thought it was humanly possible to love anyone.

Catherine leaned in closer. "If you won't talk to me, then you need to listen to me, please," she pleaded softly. She reached up and cupped his chin, gently turning his head toward her and lifting his face until their eyes met. "Since you can't remember how we were together, what we were together, I need to make sure you know how I feel."

Her hand tightened around his, her voice swelling with emotion. "I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. And I never will again. I don't understand it. I don't want to understand it. I don't need to understand it. I just know it's true. Because I feel it - throughout every part of my being."

Her words were staggered between gulps of air. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. "Even if you don't remember us, it doesn't matter. I still love you and I know if you give me a chance I can convince you to fall in love with me all over again. I told you, we're destined to be together."

Catherine drew in a strangled breath, fighting for air in between choking gasps. She brought her hand from his shoulder to her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks, then reached down and wrapped both hands around his. Vincent felt her entire body trembling and it tore at his insides, the pain scalding his heart.

"I will love you as long as I draw breath," Catherine said. She paused, straightening her shoulders, her voice steadying, her resolve strengthening. "There is nothing that will keep me away from you. Nothing. Not even you." Her eyes engulfed him. "My heart is yours, Vincent. Please let me love you."

Vincent swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. He couldn't go on like this. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't stand to see her tormented by the pain that he had no memory of her, that he didn't love her as before. Because he did. He couldn't bear to hurt her any longer.

Vincent unclenched his hands turning his palms up, intertwining his fingers with hers. Drawing in a shaky breath, his eyes stinging with emotion, he whispered, "Catherine, I'm sorry. God, I am so, so sorry."

"It's alright," she said, squeezing his hands, trying to soothe him. "We'll be okay as long as we're together."

"No, Catherine," he said, shaking his head, "you don't understand."

Catherine tilted her head, her face questioning. "Tell me what's wrong," she said. "Let me help."

Vincent dropped his gaze to the floor, his breathing rapid, his voice rasping. "I remember," he said.

"I don't understand," her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I remember ..., everything'" he said. "JT, Evan, Joe, Tess - and you."

"You remember?" she gasped. "Your memories are coming back? Oh my God, Vincent, that's wonderful," she said, the joy in her voice overflowing.

Vincent cringed at her misunderstanding. His guilt at deceiving her wrapped around his throat like a vice, making it almost impossible to speak. But he had to tell her - he had to finish. She deserved nothing less.

"I never forgot," he choked out.

Confusion visited her face once more. "What ...," she paused, swallowed, then started again. "What do you mean, you never forgot?"

"I never forgot," he repeated. "They couldn't take my memories, even though they thought they had. I wouldn't let them." Vincent raised his eyes to hers. "I remember everything. I remember us." He held his breath, preparing for the wrath he knew he deserved.

Catherine stared into his eyes for a moment, her expression a turmoil of emotion. Her eyes clouded over as her brow creased, her lips turning down into a frown. She averted her eyes to the floor, thoughts obviously racing as she put the pieces together, Vincent's meaning becoming clear.

Jerking her hands from his she stood and stepped quickly to the other side of the room, staring through the window to the harbor outside. She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her back to Vincent, but he saw her shoulders shaking with the quiet sobs she struggled to keep down.

Guilt flooded through him again. He had betrayed Catherine, lied to her, pushed her away. Minutes of silence passed between them, neither moving.

Finally, unable to sit any longer in his self-loathing, Vincent spoke. "Catherine, I didn't mean to hurt you. I was trying to protect you."

"You remembered," her voice trembled, her back to him, "and you kept that from me? Do you know how much it hurt to think I might lose you because you wouldn't feel the same as before?"

"Yes," he said, "and I'm so sorry. Please believe me, I tried so hard but I couldn't find a better way to keep you safe. Your life is in danger whenever we're together. I can't let you take that risk."

Catherine spun around, her eyes flashing with anger, the energy from her small frame vibrating the room. "How dare you!" she spat. "That's not your choice to make. It's mine."

"Cat, you need to understand ...," his voice faltered, frustration surging through him. How could she be so mad and so damn stubborn? He knew the answer to his question the moment he thought it. Because he had hurt her - badly. He had shut her out, while keeping her hanging. He had lied to her.

Vincent's voice cracked with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." His shoulders slumped down and he dropped his head into his hands, the finality of defeat weighing him down. "And now I've lost you," he whispered, the despair he felt coming through in his voice.

Another moment of silence passed, then Catherine spoke, her anger gone, her tone resolute. "That's not your choice, either."

Vincent looked up, not sure he understood her meaning. "What?" he asked.

She stepped over and stood before him. "It's not your choice whether or not I forgive you. It's not your choice whether or not I want to be with you. It's not your choice whether or not I love you. Those are my choices." She reached down and caressed his cheeks with both hands, pulling his face up to look in her eyes. Her voice was softer now, but full of conviction. "I choose to forgive you. I choose to be with you. I choose to love you. No matter how. No matter what. No matter anything. I choose you, Vincent."

Hope surged through him. He saw forgiveness in her eyes and heard love in her voice. Maybe he hadn't ruined everything. No, that wasn't it. He had made a mess of things, for sure. It was Catherine that was salvaging their relationship. It was her love and commitment that was greater than his mistakes. It was her strength that would carry them both through this turmoil. His chest swelled with gratitude, relief and joy. But above all else, love. His love for her. A depth of love which he couldn't express in words.

Vincent reached up, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She stood between his legs as he sat on the bed and buried his face in her stomach, clutching at her, afraid to let her go. Emotion overwhelmed him and all he could do was hold her tight and let his silent tears fall.

Catherine pulled the side of his head into her with one hand, running her fingers through his hair with the other. "Shhh," she whispered. "It's allright now. You've come back to me. That's all I ever wanted. You, back in my arms. Loving me. Letting me love you. And I do. Oh God, Vincent, I do love you."

Vincent's breathing slowly settled into a deep, rhythmic cadence. His shoulders relaxed, the tightness in his chest gone. Catherine's embrace, her fingers in his hair, her soothing voice, all calming the man - and the beast - within. He let her love wash over him, cleanse him, redeem him. He had hurt her. Lied to her. Tried to control her. But he hadn't lost her.

He didn't deserve her unconditional love. And in that moment he realized it wasn't a matter of deserving. It was a matter of receiving - of accepting the gift of love freely given. He had the choice to reject or accept her gift - but if acceptance was his choice it must be on her terms, not his. Only, he didn't have a choice - he couldn't reject her love and live. Just as he couldn't stop breathing and live. It wasn't possible. He had already made his choice, a long time ago. And now, finally, he understood exactly what that meant.

Vincent pressed his face into her flat stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin seep through her silk blouse. He tightened his arms around her narrow waist and pulled her closer, his need for her climbing to the surface once more. This time he didn't fight it. He moved his head up, pushing against her chest, her small breasts straining against his cheek. Of their own mind his hands moved, one to the center of her back, the other cupping the tight curve of her butt, pulling her harder against him. Catherine moaned softly, fisting his hair and clutching his head tighter to her body, pushing her breasts against him, swaying her body gently side to side as she ground her chest into him.

He turned his head, pushing his nose straight into her, nuzzling into the cleft between her breasts, drinking in her scent. He smelled her arousal, her musk driving him on. She wanted him. Even after what he had done to her, she still wanted him. And he definitely wanted her, as his hardening shaft attested.

Catherine, her hands tangled in his hair, jerked his head back and crashed her lips down on his. Her kiss was hard, hot, demanding. Vincent continued to kneed her butt with one hand and brought the other around to take her breast, cupping it through the silk, squeezing and stroking the flesh beneath. His fingers brushed the hard nipple straining against the sheer fabric of her bra and blouse and flicked back and forth across it, then traced gentle circles with his thumb. Catherine moaned into his mouth and mashed her lips harder against his. Her tongue attacked his lips with a vengeance, demanding entrance to his mouth, exploring the warmth inside, dueling with his tongue for control, dominating him, searing him with her passion.

When Catherine broke the kiss to breathe she reached down and in one fluid motion pulled Vincent's t-shirt from the hem upwards, forcing his arms above his head as she removed the shirt from his body. He saw her eyes - flooded with animal lust - fix on his chiseled chest. Her breathing was quick now, labored, hard. She looked into his eyes again. Her desire oozed from her, an urgent need she was struggling desperately to control. But it was clear she was loosing the battle.

His head spun. His harsh breath rang in his ears, drowning out all sound except for Catherine's soft whimpers and mewls. He followed suit - lifting the hem of her blouse up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. With no hesitation Catherine reached behind her, unfastened her bra and shrugged it forward and off, tossing it next to her blouse.

Vincent's eyes devoured her small, perfect breasts, Tipped by light shaded areola, her nipples were hard, declaring her desire for him, demanding his attention. She pulled his head forward to her right breast, her intention obvious. Vincent covered her breast with his mouth, softly sucking, gently massaging with one hand. He laved the areola with his tongue and then flicked her hard nub back and forth in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. He felt it harden even more as he licked her, her moans and clutches at his head driving him on. Obviously satisfied with his ministrations she pulled his head away and forced him to take her other breast in his mouth and make love to it as he had the first. He was only too happy to oblige.

Her breathing erratic now, Vincent felt Catherine tighten her grip around his head, pulling him harder into her. Her body started to tremble, growing in intensity with each second. "Oh God," she hissed. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

For a moment he was stunned that an orgasm could take her so early in their passion. But he understood her need after three months and committed himself to taking her over the edge. He couldn't have stopped anyway.

Catherine took in staggered gulps of air as her body trembled and shook. Vincent held her tight, his tongue and lips showering adoration upon her breast. He heard her breath hitch, felt her legs start to give way as she rocketed toward the edge. He grabbed her, held her close, supporting her weight, relentlessly devouring her.

"Oh ...," she cried out softly. "Yes ..., yes," she panted, her body completely supported by Vincent now. Her trembling stopped, her body became rigid for a split second and then began to buck and convulse in his arms as she tumbled over the edge, crying out, "Ahhhh. Yeeees. Yeeeeesssss!"

Vincent held her as she convulsed in pleasure, supporting her, protecting her, loving her. As her trembling subsided he fell back onto the bed, pulling her down to fall on top of him. For a few moments she laid on him, her hard breath on his neck, her chest heaving.

Before she had fully recovered she rolled off of him to the side onto her back and kicked off her boots. Lifting her hips she slid her jeans and panties off in one fluid motion. Her movements were focused, hurried, almost frantic. Without uttering a word she kneeled beside him, reaching over and making short work of the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding them and his boxers down as easily as she had her own.

"Cat, it's okay," he whispered. "Rest."

Catherine lifted her face to his and his breath caught. Her eyes were wild, feral, a reflection of his own beast. "I need you," she said, still gulping for air. "I won't wait any longer. You're mine," she growled out.

Vincent felt relief as his erection sprang free from its restraints. Catherine straddled his thighs facing him, taking his straining member in one hand, brushing her finger across it's head, drawing the slick fluid leaking from its tip down the shaft allowing her hand to glide smoothly, sensuously along it's length. He groaned, pleasure surging through him. Vincent watched her other hand dip down to her sex, stroking through her folds, preparing herself for him. His breathing shifted into a pant despite his efforts to remain calm and he let out a moan of desire which brought a wicked, lustful smile to her face as she continued to caress his hardness.

Catherine moved her hand from her sex to join the other ministering to him and began to grind her mound into his upper thigh, her warm wetness leaving a glistening sheen on his skin. He let out a hiss between tight lips and his eyes rolled back in his head. Deep down at the base of his spine he felt the coiling heat of his undoing rising, clawing toward the surface.

"Catherine," he gulped, looking up at her, "It's been ... so long. I won't ... last," his voice was desperate, pleading.

Her eyes were dark under hooded brows. She released her hands, lifted up and slid forward, hovering over him. Reaching behind her she grasped his straining member and positioned it between the slick lips of her sex, slowly easing down to sheath him in hot velvet wetness. Vincent sucked in a hard breath and closed his eyes as she enveloped him, unable to move for fear he would finish before they had even started. Catherine tightened her muscles around him, twitching her thighs as she prepared to grind into him, but Vincent clamped his hands down on her hips, locking her into place, a hiss escaping his lips. Opening his eyes he saw her own green eyes burning into his, dark, commanding and demanding, all at once. She bit her lower lip, her smirk gone, her expression hard and needy.

Her eyes spoke to him. Lust, desire, want. But most of all, love; her love for him smouldering deep within her pools of jade green. He trusted her. She knew what he was and still she protected him - protected his heart. He could give her his heart. He wanted to do that more than anything. So, he relaxed his grip on her hips, letting her know he was hers to do with as she willed - that he trusted her. He saw her eyes widen as she realized the meaning of his subtle change. They had made love many times before. But this was different. This joining wasn't just about passion. There was more here. There was commitment now, sacrifice now, acceptance now. And in that instant his life changed. Changed with the realization that he had to surrender everything - utterly and completely - in order to receive that which he wanted more than anything.

Catherine placed her hands on his chest, slowly moving her hips back and forth, letting out a soft moan as she closed her eyes, a smile on her lips. Vincent looked up at her in awe, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His chest felt as if it would explode from the love in his heart for her. Tears of wonder streamed down his face. Wonder at how life - which had tortured him with only brief glimpses of happiness - could find him worthy enough for her love.

He closed his eyes, his body coursing with electricity as they moved in unison, his thrusts matching the motion of her hips. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her down on him as she rocked. They breathed together now, a perfect crescendo of passion as they climbed together toward their release. Vincent's breath stuttered as it broke away from the embrace of her own. Energy ignited, preparing to rocket upward.

"Vincent," Catherine ground out, her voice low and shaky as she approached her own release. "Vincent. Open your eyes. Look at me. I want you to look at me."

Vincent fought to obey her, willing his eyes to open, finding hers bearing down upon him, pouring love and lust and desire into him, pushing him over the edge. His body screamed and his hips spasmed as he desperately pulled her core against him, releasing his desire deep within her, never looking away. That was all Catherine needed for her own release, her muscles tightening around him, her body jerking and trembling as her breath caught, her eyes locked with his.

Thrashing and writhing together their breaths came in gulping gasps until finally Catherine collapsed onto Vincent's chest. He didn't need his enhanced senses to hear her racing heart as it slowed, her body softening and her breathing calm. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her petite frame into him, engulfing her, protecting her, worshiping her. Catherine nuzzled her nose into his neck, burrowing further into his embrace, her body relaxing with the onset of sleep.

"Catherine?" he whispered into her hair.

"Hum?" she said.

"Thank you for choosing me."

"About that," she purred softly, "I lied."

Vincent, quirked an eyebrow he knew Catherine couldn't see. "Come again?"

"I lied about choosing you. I've never had a choice about loving you. I told you, Vincent, we are destined to be together."

He smiled.

"Vincent?" she murmured. "I do need something from you."

"Anything," he said.

"I need you to choose me," she said softly.

"I already did that," he said. "Many years ago."

"Good," she mumbled. "That's good ..." Her voice trailed off as sleep claimed her, bringing Vincent along as well only a few moments later.


End file.
